(0284) breathing in the gutter
time is slipping through your fingers, and medicine just makes you more unaware of all the dead-end satisfaction that's permeating your nightmares. concentration takes the outer world and tends to throw it all away, and while working in the corporate factory, your senses stay numb throughout the day. entertainment is of little consolation. it can be endless, there's no doubt. the news is keeping us informed of all the things we should live without, and the best of friends are busy. they're trying too hard to strike a pose. insecurity is feeling threatened by ambitious plans and an open road.
truth was derailed by a free capitalistic market, and babies are crying in the middle of the street. the vultures circle around their prey and enjoy feeling accomplished and elite. they watch over the gates of their pyramids while profiteering from their greed just as the salvation army is salvaging what they can to help people eat. the church collects your hard-earned tithes in exchange for your imaginary soul. they'll give you eternal life after death as opposed to what's supposedly below. all the fiction of the world can't teach you how to think with a rational mind, and the instant you feel empathy, be prepared to be left far behind.
emotional blackmail is performed by everyone. it doesn't matter who you think you are. you'll try to write it off as a business expense, but the accounting would be too hard. the incessant need for attention is only outshadowed by fear. crossed the finish line to find instead that the end's not even near, and while you're trying to figure out which direction is for you, the water is not yet hot enough to boil so let it soak on through. an electric current is consigned here, but i'm the only one who knows. dust and people gather as the widowed lady grows old. they were breathing in the gutter so things must be alright. if you're going nowhere, don't forget to turn off the light.
he leaves his former self in a vaccuum of self-pity and destitution. pretty faces linger everywhere, and they're not offering cold solutions. he dances around his feelings and offers up words that sink in quicksand. they know it's love, but they're not sure what that means in the age of modern information on demand. their love makes me feel nauseous because i can't understand my twisted fate. it's impossible to imagine. it's my excuse for arriving late. conversation was a phantom that could easily pass for a grain of salt, but the hospital stay was at my expense. of that, there is no fault.
piece together what you can of a silent movie with no known ending and meet me up in the static airwaves of all the things i keep pretending. i feigned sickness to make it out alive; to assure myself of another day.
i made it out alive, but i still don't know what to say.
truth was derailed by a free capitalistic market, and babies are crying in the middle of the street. the vultures circle around their prey and enjoy feeling accomplished and elite. they watch over the gates of their pyramids while profiteering from their greed just as the salvation army is salvaging what they can to help people eat. the church collects your hard-earned tithes in exchange for your imaginary soul. they'll give you eternal life after death as opposed to what's supposedly below. all the fiction of the world can't teach you how to think with a rational mind, and the instant you feel empathy, be prepared to be left far behind.
emotional blackmail is performed by everyone. it doesn't matter who you think you are. you'll try to write it off as a business expense, but the accounting would be too hard. the incessant need for attention is only outshadowed by fear. crossed the finish line to find instead that the end's not even near, and while you're trying to figure out which direction is for you, the water is not yet hot enough to boil so let it soak on through. an electric current is consigned here, but i'm the only one who knows. dust and people gather as the widowed lady grows old. they were breathing in the gutter so things must be alright. if you're going nowhere, don't forget to turn off the light.
he leaves his former self in a vaccuum of self-pity and destitution. pretty faces linger everywhere, and they're not offering cold solutions. he dances around his feelings and offers up words that sink in quicksand. they know it's love, but they're not sure what that means in the age of modern information on demand. their love makes me feel nauseous because i can't understand my twisted fate. it's impossible to imagine. it's my excuse for arriving late. conversation was a phantom that could easily pass for a grain of salt, but the hospital stay was at my expense. of that, there is no fault.
piece together what you can of a silent movie with no known ending and meet me up in the static airwaves of all the things i keep pretending. i feigned sickness to make it out alive; to assure myself of another day.
i made it out alive, but i still don't know what to say.
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